


This Much Is True

by gwyneth rhys (gwyneth)



Category: Political Animals, Push (2009)
Genre: Crossover Pairings, Deception, It Wasn't All a Lie, M/M, References to Addiction, References to Suicide Attempt, TJ gets his shit together, soft boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 00:40:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17032983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyneth/pseuds/gwyneth%20rhys
Summary: He’d always hated the soft needy creature that lived inside him, that wanted to matter more than politics or a public image. That craved nothing more than to be the center of someone’s world.





	This Much Is True

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PR Zed (przed)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/przed/gifts).



> When I saw your prompt that you'd like to see TJ from Political Animals with Nick from Push, I thought, hey, I could try that! I hope I've succeeded and that this hits the spot.

Nick scrutinized Cassie. He really, really needed some certainty before he threw himself into the deep end of the pool. Just because she and her mom had seen the outcome didn’t mean there weren’t about a thousand ways this could veer into disaster. “Yeah, whatever, the future’s always changing, I know. But I want to know this is the most likely version of the future before I ruin someone else’s life and maybe my own. Absolutely sure.”

“There is no sure.” Cassie rolled her eyes. “What are you really worried about? He’ll kick you out of bed and you’ll have to beg him to take you back and not everything was a lie?” Had he been this much of a pain in the ass when he was sixteen? He doubted it—no one was as much of a pain as Cassie Holmes. 

He’d missed her, though. The rare times she got to go meet up with her mother reminded him that it felt a little like having a family when they were together. 

He made a noise of conciliation, shrugged. “I just think it’s a complicated way of handling it. I want to believe this has even a slight shot at success.”

“I’ve seen at least five variations since the last time you asked me to run it again, and every time, he helps us. Every time he tells his mom about Division.” She closed her notebook and drew her mouth in a tight line. She wasn’t happy about being back in the States, and she missed her mom—it’d be a while before they saw each other again. “Can we just get this show on the road?”

Chucking Cassie under the chin, Nick gave her a falsely confident smile. “We better hope he thinks I’m as irresistible as you insist I am.”

She swatted his hand away. “I never said that. And I do _not_ think that!” He laughed as she threw a pillow at his head and stormed off to the bathroom. “You are such an asshole!”

It was too much fun winding her up, he thought. If he could get under her skin once in a while, it meant she hadn’t reached a stage yet where she saw every tiny thing. A couple more years and she’d be like her mother—there’d be no more surprises left, from anyone. Life would be only a constant calculation of probabilities.

* * *

“Hey, look,” Javier said, leaning over the bar toward TJ. “That dude over there? Is mighty interested in you. Can’t take his eyes off you.” 

TJ followed the direction of Javier’s finger, but he couldn’t tell which guy he was talking about; the underlighting from the bar was fighting with the lights near the dance floor. Maybe he meant the tall, triangle-shaped white boy with brown hair leaning against a wall by himself, or he could be talking about the ripped black guy with the shaved head sitting with a group of party boys.

Either one would be fine for a night, TJ supposed, although that wasn’t what he’d come here for—he’d mostly just wanted to enjoy being out on his own while he still could, before his mom won the election and even simply going out for drinks turned into a national mobilization effort. Vetting everyone and every place he wanted to go, maneuvering around the paparazzi, constantly performing his sobriety...it made him shudder. No, once he was part of the First Family again, kiss hanging out in bars goodbye.

“I don’t believe I’d mind taking either one of them home.” Raising his glass of club soda and lime to his mouth, TJ licked his lips before drinking, which made Javier chuckle and shake his head.

“I meant the white boy, asshole,” he said. “Either he recognizes you and he’s starstruck, or he thinks you’re just adorable and he’s crushing hard.”

“I’m not complaining. He’s pretty tasty.”

“Every time he thinks you might look his way, he gets all jumpy and pretends he’s not looking. Does _not_ have game.”

“Just the way I like ’em. Pushy bottom or needy top—which one does he look like to you?”

“These days I’m more concerned with big spoon or little spoon.” They both laughed. The guy did seem kind of out of his element, not someone who picked up a lot of guys. “Eh, probably just curious, hasn’t figured himself out. He’s going home to his ex-cheerleader girlfriend later and claiming he was out with the boys pounding shots instead of asses. They’re in here all the time.” He said something clearly meant to be insulting in Spanish and TJ sighed.

“No Español, I keep saying.” He’d met Javier when he was tending bar at one of the first industry parties TJ had attended after he’d moved here; they’d gone out later that week. The sex was pretty good, but they got on more as friends than anything. Los Angeles was still so new to TJ and he’d needed a few more of those. That had been a hard lesson to learn back in DC: it was a hell of a lot easier to stay sober when you had actual friends who weren’t trying to get something from you and your famous family, or they were in the program themselves, dealing with their own shit. 

One of those very few real friends from back then, a guy he’d met in college where they were studying music—before he’d gotten kicked out—had invited TJ to come help him score an indie film. All his life TJ had noodled around with the pieces he played, arranging his own variations on compositions or writing little snippets of original songs, and Ian had been an enthusiastic supporter. Maybe Ian had heard about TJ’s latest humiliation and felt sorry for him, or maybe he’d really needed someone to bounce ideas off of, but TJ didn’t care: he’d jumped at the chance to join Ian in LA and he loved it. 

He’d thought it would be fun, sure, but ended up surprising himself with how exciting he found the work. After a few months, he began setting up meetings with some of Ian’s contacts, getting to know people he might be able to do more work with once they finished this score. One of Ian’s friends had rented him a nice little place in Silver Lake close to Ian’s house and home studio, and TJ got back into running and playing tennis. Almost every day he could get out in the sunshine, jogging up through the hills or having a match at the community courts. Javier and his friends, Ian and his wife, they all helped TJ stay out of trouble, and as much as he missed his family, especially Dougie, he didn’t miss their low expectations or the toxic, vicious world they lived in. Yes, he wanted Mom to win the election, but he was never going to be part of that world again if he could help it. This was the life he was building, all on his own.

“You should put the dude out of his misery. Think you’ll take him home?” Javier asked, amused that TJ was even considering it. 

“Might. If he ever comes over and says something instead of pretending he isn’t interested—and providing the poor curious baby isn’t just a star-fucker.” He had the kind of mouth you wanted to see around your cock, and his shoulder-to-waist ratio made TJ bite his lip. He stood out just enough to make you want to see more, not necessarily because of his looks—hot guys in Silver Lake bars weren’t exactly scarce on the ground—but for the way he was dressed, which gave the impression he hadn’t changed his style since his teenage years. TJ hoped that wasn’t the guy’s A outfit. Still, good material to work with.

The guy seemed to know they were studying him and he stared down into his drink. “Aw, pobrecito, look at him. This hurts to watch.” Javier laughed and went down to the end of the bar to take someone’s order.

As he did, TJ caught the guy focusing on him this time, and their eyes locked. Well, someone was suddenly bold now that there wasn’t a team-up. 

The guy peeled himself away from the wall as though he’d been summoned and threaded his way across the floor. Compared to a lot of the clubs TJ’d been to in West Hollywood, this was a fairly low-key place, which was useful, because at least here he could hear the guy talk before he made any decisions.

TJ hooked a foot around the bottom of the stool to pull it out a ways, and the guy sat down, an expressive eyebrow curving upward. Up close, the view was even better: he had stunning blue eyes, a luscious, pillowy lower lip, pale skin that set off insanely long eyelashes, and a strong jawline. When he shifted a certain way, TJ could see past the gray hoodie to his T-shirt—tighter than the rest of his clothing—and it seemed the guy had pecs that could crack a walnut. For such a slim build, he was pretty cut.

A guy like this would be drowning in hookup requests on Grindr. Maybe that’s just what he didn’t want, though, if his jitteriness was anything to go by. Needed something face-to-face to start out with. 

“Can I buy you another one?” he asked, nodding at TJ’s drink, and he would have laughed at that except the glass really was almost empty and he supposed the guy had to start somewhere. His voice went straight to TJ’s groin.

“It’s just club soda and lime,” TJ said, “so why don’t I get yours?”

“That’s—you don’t have to. Nick Gant,” he said, sticking his hand out. Yeeeaah, that voice was gonna be a problem.

“Humor me,” TJ said with an encouraging smile. He waved at Javier for two more; Javier tried very hard not to smirk. “TJ Hammond, but I have a feeling you already knew that. Most people already know that.” He shook Nick’s hand. Damn, he had really nice hands, too.

“I suppose you caught me staring. I didn’t mean to be rude, it’s just that I’ve been out of the country for a really long time, and I kept thinking you were familiar until it finally dawned on me why. It must be really irritating.”

A suicide attempt and a recent hospitalization for overdose, growing up and coming out in the White House, his mom’s failed run for the presidency four years ago. It’d be hard for him not to have seen some of that, but TJ let him have the pretense because he was intrigued. “Sometimes, but you figure out ways to cope.” Nick even smelled really nice, something subtle and citrusy rather than the often intense, obnoxious shit a lot of guys wore. Maybe the clothing—a gray sweater hoodie, loose jeans, Chucks—was a bit juvenile, but on closer inspection he could see they were nice items. So all in all, not a half bad package. “Out of the country, huh? Where? Done a bit of traveling myself.” TJ inched a little closer on his seat.

“Moved around a lot the past fifteen years. Most recently Seoul, before that Hong Kong, Tokyo, Singapore. And before that, Vancouver, up and down the East Coast.”

The surprise must have been really obvious on his face because Nick gave a half shrug, no big deal. “That’s...unusual,” TJ said. “Were your parents diplomats or something?” What a stupid question—not everyone’s family was in politics, Jesus.

While he’d meant it as a joke, it seemed to provoke a tightness around Nick’s eyes, something sad took hold in him and his gaze roamed around the bar, to the bottles on the wall, before returning to TJ. “Nah. Just a long, strange trip, I guess.”

TJ raised his brows but didn’t say anything, waiting while Javier slid their drinks in front of them—Nick’s was just some kind of dark beer. His tongue darted out and licked off a bit of the foam sliding down the glass. _Christ._ “Lots of rich people in those places.”

That made Nick laugh. Great—not only did he have a voice made for phone sex, but his laugh was adorably dorky and awkward. Everything about him was a lethal combination of the things TJ liked best. “I know what you’re trying to ask, but no, I was definitely not one of them.”

“Your folks bring you there?” He couldn’t be more than his mid-twenties, at most. That was a pretty interesting background if he’d done it on his own.

Nick inhaled, looking completely amused at TJ’s fishing efforts. “Nah. Just business, mostly, different kinds of jobs,” was all he said, maddeningly cryptic. He didn’t seem the business sort.

“Then what brings you back to the States—more business?”

“Sort of. Things have been a little unstable over there, seemed safer to get work over here.” TJ’d already asked more questions than usual of someone he was going to fuck and never see again, but damn him if he didn’t want to know just what was going on with Mr. Nick Gant. Nana would probably tell him this was a sign he was growing up. “What about you? I think the last time I saw you in the news, your family was leaving the White House.”

Interesting—if true, that was a long time ago. His family was extremely hard to avoid hearing about, even when you tried. “Music, weirdly. I’ve switched careers from being a lazy fuckup drug-addicted failure to working with a friend on a film score.”

“That is...actually really cool,” Nick said with such boyish enthusiasm TJ almost laughed. “I’m really into movies, myself, and I love soundtracks, I kind of collect them.”

TJ wrinkled his nose, shook his head. “It’s just an indie probably no one will ever see outside of festivals, but that’s okay. Might lead to more stuff.” 

That seemed to distress Nick, and he said, low and quiet, “Don’t say that. I bet it’ll be fantastic.”

Sweet, but still. TJ waved a hand. He should probably get this show on the road. Instead, he asked, “You don’t do this a lot, do you? Pick guys up?”

Nick blinked. “Damn, that was savage. I thought my studied insouciant wall-leaning and cool affectation was a good cover-up.”

 _Shit, fuck._ “Sorry, hazard of my upbringing—aggressive offense so you don’t have to play wounded defense.” He spread his hands wide. “I usually hook up online. That way I can avoid people recognizing me until we actually meet. Makes everything a hundred times easier.”

“And yet here you are in a gay bar.” There was a sort of indistinct, opaque quality about Nick, he couldn’t put his finger on it. Almost as if he was guarding something. Which was something he knew a lot about and should be a warning sign, but TJ had never met one of those he couldn’t rationalize blowing right past.

TJ pointed at him and said with a dry laugh, “You got me there.” He didn’t really want to explain how close he came to knocking the sobriety out of himself whenever he was alone too long; it was a learning curve, this responsible adulting shit, and the depression was still there, always lurking in very dark corners of his mind despite the medication and the therapy. Company, even in a bar, kept his mind off other things.

“Rather have you somewhere else.” Nick’s eyes became immense, like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He shook his head a fraction, grimacing as he tried to regroup. TJ was watching him melt down with glee, when his drink suddenly tipped over the edge of the bar, even though it was nowhere near anyone’s hand. That was...really weird. Nick got far more upset about it than necessary, apologizing and hoisting himself over the bar to grab a towel. Javier noticed the commotion and came over to mop it up, giving TJ a speaking look. 

“Sometimes, I hang out with my friend when he’s on shift,” TJ explained, glaring daggers at Javier. “He’s needy like that.”

As Nick settled back in the chair, TJ considered him, turning things over in his mind. He hardly ever did this these days. Online really was safer, and he had no idea why Nick had been watching him all night. 

But.

You didn’t grow up a disaster human and consistently fuck up your life without eventually learning what at least a few of your weaknesses were, and everything about Nick hit his weak spots, especially his air of mild but adorkable incompetence. Throw in the blistering hotness and TJ was easy prey. “What would you say if I told you that I think I can make somewhere else happen.”

***

“So he took me back to his condo on Lake Shore Drive, which was...fucking palatial,” TJ said, turning to look at Nick, who was lying on his stomach, arms tucked under the pillow, cheek resting on it. It was making TJ horny all over again to have that low, throaty laugh at TJ’s stories firing up and down his spine. Not to mention he had a great view of Nick’s incredible ass. “I hadn’t been back in Illinois that long and I thought I’d scored myself a pretty decent sugar daddy, you know, having a place like that. I’m standing there, admiring the view of the lake—it was a beautiful night—and I can kind of sense him coming up behind me.”

Nick’s brow arced, he waited for what came next. No one had listened to him this way in so fucking long, maybe ever. No expectations placed on him, no sense that Nick was policing TJ’s sobriety. Just enjoyment of each other’s company. He could get used to this. 

“So he slips his arms around my waist and I turn, because you know, I’ve been wanting to kiss him since I saw him at Mom’s party. And all of a sudden he pops me one across the face, just _pow!_ with a pretty decent backhand. I stagger backwards and I’m like, ‘What the fuck!’ and he’s a little shorter than me so I haul back and punch him right in the nose. Now he’s staggering backwards and he has his hands over his face, and when he finally looks up at me, there’s blood everywhere, right? And he goes, in this whiny voice, ‘Oooww, baby, not so hard!’”

Nick belted out a laugh and stuck his face in the pillow. The shake of his ribs, the way his muscles flexed, left TJ a little dazzled. Nick turned to look at TJ and for a moment that sort of clouded quality he had fell away and his eyes were so bright, his focus intense. His lashes were the most devastating thing TJ had ever seen. “Did you do anything at the fundraiser to give him the idea you were into that sort of thing?”

“Not even a little! I was fresh out of rehab and working overtime to be such a good little boy, since Mom had just been elected. The last thing she’d need was her screw-up kid getting caught in a scene with one of her donors if something went wrong.”

“So did you leave after that, or stick around to find out what his ground rules were?” He turned on his side, ran his fingertips up and down TJ’s arm, shivers following in their wake. “Or maybe a rich guy like that doesn’t take ground rules.”

“No, they usually don’t. You’d be amazed the way older guys like that would hit on me when I was still in my teens, like, they were fucking unbelievable. As soon as I came out, every rich old fart who’d ever donated to a Democratic candidate—and more than a few Republicans—figured I was fair game.” He scoffed. “Like even if it wasn’t illegal I’d want to bang their shriveled old asses. And of course, they were all _totally straight_ , you know. Family values guys. Condemning me in the press to score points while leering at me at state dinners.”

“I can see why you’d want to get out of that world. I missed a lot of those years,” Nick said, laying his hand flat on TJ’s stomach. He wondered if Nick could feel the wild beating of his heart at that. “But I think I remember you as pretty hot teenage baby gay fantasy material.”

“Then you remember correctly.” They hadn’t exactly burned the house down on their first go-round, it was pretty mild considering what he was used to getting from his usual hookups, but Nick had been nervous, for a number of reasons. He’d been happy to take it easy then, but lying here like this...TJ wanted a lot more now. 

He sat up and leaned against the headboard, staring at Nick. The soft jazz from the living room stereo was just barely audible. “You are...unexpected.” 

Nick smiled up at him, curved his hand around TJ’s knee. They watched each other for a while, and TJ thought maybe he could stay like this for a long time.

Still—he was famished. “You hungry? For food, I mean.” 

Nick grinned. “Yeah, I am. Anything’s good except Chinese. I forgot how terrible the stuff is here, mostly. There’s a few good places in Chinatown and Koreatown, but I’m—” He stopped. “Kind of a dick, aren’t I? Pretentious.”

“Nah.” He leaned in for a kiss. Maybe Nick was a little inexperienced fucking a guy, but he was a world-class kisser. “I’d be the same way if I’d lived somewhere else that long. Even just traveling overseas when Dad was president, I got pretty spoiled with the food in the countries we visited.”

“It must have been fun, getting to travel like that.” There was that tension about his eyes, just like at the bar. He was thinking of something that did not make him happy, and TJ wondered what he was saying that kept bringing that on. TJ blinked and looked around the bedroom—had the lights gotten dimmer? It seemed abruptly really dark in here. That was _so weird._

Weird things had been happening all night—first the drink, then when TJ had been blowing Nick, he’d suddenly jolted forward off the edge of the bed, knocking TJ on his ass. He’d sheepishly confessed that the lamp was falling off the nightstand and he’d caught it, but neither one of them had been close enough to jostle the table, and he was pretty sure he’d have seen it if that had happened. Nick had made him forget about that pretty fast, though, pulling them on to the bed and letting TJ ride him.

“It had its pros and cons.” TJ wasn’t quite ready to get into that with a one-nighter. Talking about those years in any real depth was just... Well, that was going to take years to unravel with a professional therapist, so he’d save it for the paid help. “I’ve got stuff in my fridge, but I’ll be honest, it’s kind of sad. We could call out for something.”

“I was surprised how hard it is to get things delivered in some of the places here. I guess LA’s just too spread out, you have to live in the right zip code or something.”

“There’s always pizza. That’s everywhere.”

Nick rolled onto his back and pulled TJ on top of him. Not fair. He was hungry. “Pizza over there is _so weird,_ so honestly, that’d be great. I’m not a complicated guy when it comes to food. Or much of anything else.”

“I’d argue that,” he said. 

For a while they kissed, and he almost forgot he was starving. Nick brushed his hands over TJ’s hair and said, “You know, you’re unexpected too. When I realized who you were tonight, I figured I wasn’t in your league. But you’re not like that at all. And the changes you’ve made to your life—that’s pretty amazing.”

He squinted and dropped his head to Nick’s shoulder. “Really not.”

“You don’t take compliments very well, do you?”

He drew a sharp breath. His therapist was on him all the time about that, too. He couldn’t believe he was opening up this way to someone he barely knew, but he found himself saying, “I hooked up with this guy after the hospital, he was a psychologist. I made some joke about failing rehab and he just offhandedly said it was mostly a scam for big insurance money and that they rarely treated the underlying causes of addiction—only the symptoms. Depression, trauma, loneliness—isolation from communities and family bonds. I couldn’t stop thinking about those things. I moved here, started seeing someone, just to find out what they thought. She was kind of pissed that no adult in my life had ever once considered I had depression.”

Nick squeezed his waist, and TJ moved his fingers over Nick’s skin, saying, “And I think Dougie’s always had it, too. They never really talk about that with twins—how alone you feel when you’re away from them, how much a part of your life is theirs, too, from before you’re even born. When they kicked me out of school, I always used more, ’cause they were keeping me away from him. So now we’re both taking something, I talk to him almost every day, and it’s been fucking night versus day. If I am getting my shit together, that’s why.”

It was probably way too much to dump on someone for a first date. One-nighter, whatever. Because Nick was really quiet for a long time; TJ expected him to withdraw. “I’m just saying—I didn’t know you before, but what you’re doing now looks good on you. Thank you for telling me about that. It means a lot.”

With a sigh, TJ said, “I was braced for you saying some program bullshit like ‘good share, man.’ I can’t tell you how much I hate that crap.”

He gave a little huff, warm and fond. “I told you, even my problems are boring. I’m just a really...basic guy.”

Kissing his way along Nick’s chest, TJ dragged his tongue over a nipple before taking it in his teeth. He reached down to cup Nick’s hardening dick, and Nick responded with a cute little gasp, squeezing TJ’s ass. Maybe all he’d needed was a practice run to build his confidence, because _hell-o._

“I’d argue that, too, because you are anything but basic. But right now, this has my full attention,” and he made his way down to take Nick’s cock in his mouth. 

Food could wait.

* * *

“I hardly see you these days, and when I do, you look like someone hit you on the head with a shovel. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were falling in love.” Cassie frowned. Why should she be so annoyed? Hadn’t she seen how this ended—her mom, too?

“Didn’t _know_ better, ha ha,” Nick said, meeting her frown with his. 

“I didn’t think you were going to get so sappy. You didn’t have to fall in love to get him to tell her. Just get close to him, have a good time.” Spending so much time around other people lately had reminded him acutely of what a brat she could be.

“You jealous?”

“Oh please,” she practically spat, so he laughed at her and cuffed her on the arm. “We need more money,” Cassie said, matter-of-factly. “Can you go to a casino or the track, or will that interrupt date night?”

“You wanna go to Vegas? He’s actually busy for a while, it’s, like, crunch time for his movie, I guess.” He was the older one here, if maybe not always the more mature, so he wasn’t going to let her goad him, because he was just fucking _happy_ right now. He should feel shitty about that, but...he was having too good a time. 

“Yeah, Vegas,” she said with glee and jumped up from the couch. “Can we see a show?” Her mood switches were instantaneous. The nice thing about this place, even if it was sort of a dump, was that her mom had arranged it for them, it had been paid for years ago, so they could pick up and go wherever they felt like it and not have to ditch their stuff. Almost like normal people lived. 

“Get your sketchbooks and let’s go.”

* * *

For a while now, TJ had been wondering if he’d stumbled his way into a gay romance novel. It seemed as if he and Nick were hitting all the typical beats, he thought as he watched Nick make his way around the table for a corner pocket shot. The longest relationship he’d had since school had been with Sean—and that had been all hiding in his apartment, everything on the downlow. 

But TJ hadn’t followed his one-and-done policy that night and kicked Nick out afterward; instead Nick had stayed for breakfast, and there’d been another date the next night. And then another, and another... Nick was making him break all his rules, and...he kind of didn’t mind. What was up with that?

But he’d seen enough romances to know: there was always a third act crisis. He just hoped that this time it wouldn’t be someone who was ashamed of their relationship.

It would be hard not to like Nick—he was the kind of guy who’d have made a good friend growing up, if TJ’d ever had those and not bodyguards. Even Javier had thawed a bit in his assessment once they met formally, seeing that he wasn’t just another guy trying to take advantage of TJ’s name. Nick was funny and kind and sort of messed up in the self-esteem department in a way TJ definitely got, and he was thoughtful in a way TJ wasn’t used to. Maybe most important, he didn’t appear to be dazzled by the political royalty background despite the fact that he only worked a manual-labor job for a moving company till he found something better. Nick didn’t talk much about that beyond the basic personal résumé shit they’d run through in those first days; he seemed ashamed of it, or something, but TJ kind of liked it—he wasn’t anything like the types of guys who usually ran in TJ’s circles, halle-fucking-lujah. 

All of which meant he was absolutely not telling anyone outside of Javier, Ian, and his therapist about this, because he was sure his family would dig something terrible up and latch on to it till they could break them up. At this point, TJ wasn’t totally certain whether they were seriously serious about each other—so why let his family run their usual soul-crushing interference before he and Nick even knew if they’d get off the ground. There was a lot to be said for short-term relationships that you both got some fun out of before saying friendly goodbyes.

When he saw Nick being so cute and adorable and awkward, though, TJ thought _who am I kidding?_ Throw in the hotness and TJ was putty in his hands. Like how right then, Nick was arching decoratively over the edge of the table, hopelessly trying to angle his cue for a corner shot that no one could make, his normally loose jeans pulled tight over his ass to expose a little of his boxers. It wasn’t fair. 

Nick shot, but the thirteen ball only hovered at the edge of the corner pocket, and TJ said, “Aw, too bad. You’re gonna lose again!” Nick stared intently at the little cluster of balls, and the thirteen seemed to wobble a little before falling into the pocket. Had Nick jostled the table when he wasn’t looking? TJ frowned at it. Maybe it wasn’t balanced. “What the—”

“You were saying?” Nick asked, stepping back so that his ass was snug against TJ’s dick. 

“I...forgot.” 

“Damn right you did.” He turned and snuck a quick little kiss. They didn’t really go out all couple-y in public that much, or if they did, they didn’t exactly pile on the PDAs—Nick respected TJ’s desire for privacy. If someone got wind that TJ Hammond had a new boyfriend, the paps would never leave them alone, and Nick didn’t seem to want that for himself, either. Unlike a lot of guys who very much desired the profile of seeing Bud Hammond and Elaine Barrish’s son, Nick wasn’t interested. 

Except...TJ had an inkling that maybe he was ready to change that. He waited while Nick bought them some more drinks and racked the balls for a new game. 

“So...hey,” he said, his voice a little shaky because he was always braced for rejection these days and he was such a fragile fucking flower. “They’re having the movie premiere in two weeks, at the LA film expo. I wondered if you’d like to be my plus-one.” TJ pretended to casually block out a shot. “Not too formal, just a nice suit and tie.” He wasn’t honestly sure Nick owned anything like that, but he’d love to take him shopping at Barney’s—there wasn’t anything Nick wouldn’t look spectacular in.

When he finally glanced at Nick’s face, he felt like he’d been punched. Nick was stricken, his face all twisted up, as though TJ had instead stuck a gun to his temple and spun the cylinder. It was way out of proportion to the question. Was this just a repeat of Sean all over again? Was he really that fucking moronic that he couldn’t have seen this coming? “Um, you know, I don’t—I can’t.”

Stinging heat crept behind his eyes and in his throat. So Nick wouldn’t see how gutted he was, TJ leaned down and shot, the cue ball cracking against the three; he’d hit it so hard it spun around a bit before settling. “I didn’t even tell you the fucking date.”

TJ needed something harder than club soda—he glared at his drink for its insufficiency. 

“Sorry, I meant...” Nick was obviously scrambling for some kind of cover story. “I just—being at a public event like that, it sort of fills me with terror. Trips my anxiety hard.” Oh, so now he had anxiety. Good to know. “And you haven’t wanted people to think we’re...you know.” TJ’s brows went up, he waited in disgust for whatever story Nick was grasping at. “There’d be photographers, right?”

He held his hand out. “Oh, I’m sorry, would that blow your witness protection cover?”

After a sharp breath, Nick said, “Your family would see the photos.”

It was true, he’d grant Nick that, but it was also just a convenient excuse. “You could come in later, after the red carpet shit. You don’t have to be seen with me at the event.” No one paid attention to the composers at a movie premiere, but unfortunately TJ came with a lot of extra fame baggage. 

They stared at each other for a long time, and TJ recognized that old familiar unwinding feeling. When the hell was he going to learn? “All right, I’m done, I think I’ll head home,” TJ said, sharp and cold. “Night, Nick.” His shoulders dropped, he seemed to sag in on himself, but TJ wasn’t especially concerned about Nick right now. 

_Fuck valets,_ TJ thought when he got outside, fishing around for his ticket. If he had to wait around for his goddamn car, Nick would catch up with him as soon as he’d finished paying their tab.

Why the fuck was he so wrung out about this? They were casual. It seemed clear they’d both viewed it that way. Except that, okay, he was falling for the guy big time. _Had fallen._ It was true that Nick never gave away too much about himself, but TJ saw enough: how carefully he listened to TJ talk about everything from music to his experiences in rehab. How he steered their long conversations away from politics, which, thank _fuck_. How he’d eagerly learned all the ways he could make TJ shiver and moan. 

It was true that he fell for guys way too easily, he’d always been a soft touch, but he hadn’t thought he was that off the mark with Nick. 

“Can I just go get my own damn car?” TJ asked the valet, handing him a fifty and his ticket. The guy shrugged and got his keys. TJ stalked off toward the valet lot; he’d probably end up on the guy’s social media tomorrow, so fucking what. As soon as he put the key in the ignition there was a rap on the window—he didn’t even have to look to know that Nick was standing there, all contrite. Staring straight ahead, TJ hit the unlock button and the passenger door opened; Nick slid into the seat, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs. 

“I’m not sure exactly what it is you think I’m saying here.” Nick exhaled, ragged and shallow. “I’m not...really skilled at this.” TJ could feel Nick willing him to meet his eyes, so he eventually turned his head.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

He’d always hated the soft needy creature that lived inside him, that wanted to matter more than politics or a public image. That craved nothing more than to be the center of someone’s world.

Nick was even prettier with the colored lights from the club’s sign splashed across his pale skin, his long lashes fanning out. His cheeks had their own very pink color—almost everything seemed to make him blush, it was annoyingly endearing. “I’ve had exactly one...thing you could call a relationship, and that was with a girl and it didn’t last all that long. Every guy I’ve slept with has been at most a two-night stand.”

“What do you want me to say?” He was really fucking done with appeasing the guys who hurt him, all the damn time. “You don’t want anyone to see you out with a guy. You don’t want anyone to see you out with a _particular famous guy_ who everyone knows is queer.”

Nick had the nerve to actually laugh at that. Putting his hand over TJ’s on the steering wheel, Nick settled in to the seat, and TJ rolled his eyes, sliding his hand out from under. “There’s a lot of things in play here, and none of them are that. Can I explain?”

TJ waved his hand, _whatever._

“First thing is, if I go with you, everyone’ll be taking pictures of you with your date. Who’s this new guy? they’ll wonder. And reporters being reporters they’ll dig until they find out more about me.” That did _not_ sound good. Dad was gonna lose his shit about this. “There won’t be much to find, not for them. But your parents will see those photos, and they will have the access to data the paparazzi don’t. If you thought we had some kind of future where your parents weren’t going to pressure you into ditching me the way they’ve done with relationships they didn’t like before, well. Kiss this one goodbye.”

Now he had TJ’s full attention. He could hear the recriminations and disappointed ranting already. His mom’s querulous, self-righteous “told you so”s. “Look. I know you wonder about me, but we’ve been having a good enough time that you haven’t wanted to press.”

“Well, it’s been pointed out to me that I’m an idiot.”

Nick flashed him a look, annoyed—maybe scared, too. But for a long while, he didn’t say anything, and when he did, his voice sounded raw. “My dad was killed in front of me when I was a kid. An...assault, and I got away where I could hide, but I saw the whole thing.” TJ’s stomach felt like it was on an express elevator going down. “My mom was already gone, so my dad was my whole world. It really fucked me up, as I’m sure you can imagine. So most of my life I’ve been drifting around, not really dealing with my shit. You end up just...not knowing how to build relationships, never have the chance to...what do you call it, model normal behavior.”

Of all the reasons for Nick’s mysterious distance, that wasn’t even in the realm of possibilities he’d considered. That was just...fucked up, more fucked up than his own life had been by miles. “Like I said. I’ve been accused of being on the gullible side. Especially for a pretty face. Wouldn’t be the first time I hooked up with someone I shouldn’t. So, not your fault that we’re here now.”

“I honestly didn’t think I’d ever have to tell you this. Sure didn’t want to. Wasn’t expecting I’d still be a part of your life, enough for you to invite me to a big event. I should have told you this before so it didn’t have to come out this way. And most of all, I’m sorry I hurt you.” He began to open the car door, but TJ stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“So did they catch the guys who did it? Did you at least get that?” Such a loss was unimaginable to him, and all his problems seemed so petty now.

He sighed, staring at his hands. “No, they didn’t.” He met TJ’s eyes. “I just kinda went through life like there was no point to anything, and I’ve tried to stay under the radar, never put myself out there where I might get hurt or...lose someone. But I still somehow lose people.”

“You’ve been on your own all your life?” 

“There were relatives at first, you know, but I had a lot of problems, acted out. As soon as I could go, I went. The relationship I mentioned—I met this girl when I was still pretty young and she kind of did—well, cons, and rebellious youth that I was, I thought that was so cool. So I joined her for a while in New York. Then she disappeared and I went overseas, and it was just easier that way—it’s easier to live under the radar there.”

“Then why come home?” TJ asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. If Nick had staked him out and this was all to get money from him or his family, he’d never hear the fucking end of it. _Of course_ he’d fall for a con artist. Of course.

He was silent for a time. “Cas—my sister. She wanted me to come home.”

So far, he hadn’t met her, only heard about her in vague terms. That Nick was crashing at her place near the airport until he made enough money at his job to move out. “Your sister’s name is Cass?”

“Cassie.”

He couldn’t help it, he found himself smiling at Nick, just to lighten things up. He was an idiot and too soft, just like his dad said, but TJ wanted things to be all right for Nick. There was only a three-year difference in their ages, but TJ had never once been the one who took care of someone. Who helped them. Did it make him pathetic to want to be that man for Nick? It was an ache that squeezed his ribs so hard he couldn’t breathe. 

Nick’s hand still hadn’t moved from the door handle. “Should I go? I know this is a lot of shit to take in, and I know how unbelievable it sounds. I’d want me to get the hell out of your life, too.”

Staring out the window, TJ watched a man and woman walking toward their car, the easy way they meshed with each other, as if they were one. The kind of couple he’d always feigned disinterest in, even though they represented the life he wanted most. This situation had _fucked up_ written on it in enormous flashing neon and he should absolutely let Nick walk away, say goodbye and never look back. But that life... His desire for it was always there, itching just under his skin, and he couldn’t say no just yet, not until he knew more about Nick. His relationships were always disastrous, TJ always made the wrong choices, but he had to find out if his hope was misplaced—or not. 

“Maybe not just yet.” 

***

The film festival had turned out to be a pretty amazing experience—all the press and high-wire excitement of his club’s opening with none of the coke-fueled, betrayal-induced trauma. It was the first time he’d attended a high-profile event of teeming crowds and flashbulbs firing like artillery without being high. That he still wasn’t drinking made it even more surreal. Nana had flown in to be his date, and they were a pair, both trying to stay on the wagon while everyone around them was altered, this being Hollywood and all.

Perhaps more important to his overall stability, it was the first time he’d had something to point to and say “I was a part of making that.” An accomplishment of his own work and skill, not something given to him because of his name, not coasting along on his privilege. This was something he could really do. If TJ made a go of it and someone hired him in the future, it didn’t have to be about what publicity or financial investment he could bring with him. 

The festival had also given TJ and Nick some time away from each other, a little chance to cool off. Nick’s confession had changed things, yeah, but that break also allowed them a reset on the intensity, and much as he hated to admit it, probably had been a good idea. Chilling out combated one of TJ’s worst qualities: going all in when he was invested in a guy, to the point of self-sabotage.

Introducing Nick to Nana had been out of the question—he loved Nana beyond reason, but she was notoriously unable to keep her mouth shut about her family’s lives, so TJ’s sketchy new mysterious boyfriend would make prime material the next time she got juiced in front of someone with a tape recorder—and then Mom would have the FBI all over it. She had always been his partner in crime, but that meant he knew her and how long her attempts at sobriety usually lasted. 

Or maybe what TJ was really afraid of was Nana’s ruthless, usually unsolicited advice: she’d blast him with how dangerous it was to be in a relationship with someone whose messy past could bring down the little house of cards he’d built here, drill him about how tough it was to stay clean with someone whose hands might be dirty. Nana absolutely supported what TJ was doing to change in his life, but there was a line even for her, which probably ended at seeing him cozied up to a guy with no fixed address, a manual-labor job, and a traumatic past. 

More than a few times, TJ had fantasized about hiring a private detective, just to see what they might dig up—he was, to his mind, understandably curious, but he was also afraid to ask the kinds of questions that might drive Nick away. It wasn’t that Nick ever gave TJ cause to think he didn’t deserve more background, or even that TJ was afraid of what actual dirt he could dig up—it was really more that neither one of them really knew how to play this sort of game, with their stellar relationship histories. They were trying so hard not to upset the other it became almost comedic. 

Sometimes TJ recalled screaming at his mother over Sean and the shame of it stuck in his throat; he’d been such a goddamn ungrateful bastard when she’d only tried to protect him, and she’d been right all along about exactly who Sean really was. So if his worst fears came true about Nick? That was something he wanted to find out on his own first, save everyone the misery. 

When TJ did ask Nick anything, he kept the questions general: what do you remember of your mother? What was your relationship like with the girl you mentioned? How seriously criminal was your time with her? You could say a lot about the Hammond-Barrishes, positive and negative, but at least they were well aware of what elitist pricks they could be—pretty hilarious, since TJ’s maternal grandmother was a former showgirl and lounge singer and his paternal grandparents were farmers. Although they’d be super polite while they were dissing you for your lack of pedigree. So while they might be forgiving, a con artist...well, that was probably a bridge too far.

Nick’s responses to his probing were always measured and thoughtful, though—and he’d had plenty of questions for TJ of his own. Despite looking like he hung out with his dudebros getting high every night, Nick, it turned out, never touched drugs or drank anything harder than beer or wine unless a social occasion required it. It didn’t matter to TJ if that was because of a fucked-up childhood or just being a sensible guy, because it helped him out personally, quite a bit. Twice he’d tried dating guys after rehab who hadn’t given a single shit about helping him stay clean because it cramped their party-boy style; he really didn’t want to go down that path again, which was easy with Nick.

It wasn’t entirely about personal histories. He was basically just having fun, enjoying himself more than he had since the first few days he’d seen Sean. They went out to places he was rarely recognized such as movies, galleries, concerts, and the kinds of restaurants the paparazzi never worked so they could sit in a dark corner booth where, if anyone did recognize TJ, they mostly just smiled and admired his arm candy. It turned out that Nick loved learning about music: he would lie on the couch and listen to TJ play piano, request songs that TJ had never played so he’d have to figure out an arrangement on the spot, listen raptly as TJ rambled on about music theory over dinner or on a run—and it never seemed to bother Nick when he had to play the same section of the score over and over again till it felt perfect. 

The sex was...pretty amazing, too, which definitely didn’t hurt at all. TJ was just shallow enough to admit it mattered to him, but some of it, he believed, had to do with feeling like they could be open about what they wanted. Maybe there was something to be said for long-term relationships, after all, spending enough time with someone to learn their likes and the ways they could satisfy you. Where someone didn’t get up and leave after they were done with you to go home to their little wife.

Once the movie was firmly in the can and there was nothing left for TJ’s part on the score, his mother had begun prodding him to return to join her campaign for the West Coast leg. Why she’d want her black-sheep gay son with the drug problem dragging his thirty tons of baggage behind as she juggled weeks of a presidential campaign was a mystery to him, and he said as much one night over Skype.

“Because I miss you. And your father misses you,” she’d responded, giving him her sad-eyed loving mother look, the one that always made him roll his eyes because Elaine Barrish had never been that person. “I believe people want to see you, sweetheart, especially now that you’re doing so well. There are so many young men and women who’ve learned courage from your story. I can’t imagine anything more powerful than for them to see you standing beside me, especially if I get the nomination.” He shook his head, because even though he knew she was playing him, he wasn’t totally immune to the ego strokes. God only knew what his own life might have been if he’d had someone like himself to look up to when he was struggling with his sexuality or his emotional difficulties. Someone else’s road to redemption story didn’t magically cure your depression or make coming out easier, but it sure as hell wouldn’t have hurt, either, when he was sitting in his room in the White House, staring at a bottle of pills.

“Come on, Mom, as if you’re not getting the nomination,” he’d said, but he promised to think about it, even though there was nothing he wanted less at that point than to leave California, and Nick, even for a few weeks.

After he’d talked to her, he’d told Nick about the conversation—TJ didn’t want Nick to think he didn’t trust him enough to talk about his family. They were such a weird thing—they belonged to the rest of the world, their entire lives had been devoted to public service, yet they were his, too, private and personal and painful. He said he didn’t think it was safe to be part of the campaign this time, in order to keep the press off her back—they salivated over his failings as a human being, pounced on every transgression like hungry dogs. Nick’s response was almost more alarmed than supportive, leaving TJ a little confused. “Aren’t you afraid that she might get angry, feel like you’re rejecting her? She might, I don’t know, cut you off completely?” He hadn’t reached the stage yet where he could afford to live completely without Hammond money.

He’d shrugged. “She might, but believe me, my family has never had a problem with bluntness or telling you you’re letting them down. Or blackmailing you into doing what they want. If she really wants me there or my father demands an audience, they’ll tell me.” He’d rolled over in bed, resting his chin on his arms, right on top of Nick’s spectacular abs. “My mom’s been a woman in a good old boys’ club for a really long time, and they’re always looking for something they can use against her. She’s pretty good at playing the game, but I don’t want to be the thing they use against her this time, the way they used my dad’s infidelity. I don’t think I could live with myself. She was made for this. She has to win this time. Trust me, I’m better off here.”

Nick’s eyebrows had done that thing where they pulled together in a V—TJ loved that thing. He loved a lot of Nick’s things. “I’m sorry. Of course you know what’s best, you’ve had this experience with them. And family dynamics are not something I’ve ever really had to navigate.”

He hadn’t said it to make TJ feel shitty, but it certainly had that effect. TJ said, a little curt, “It’s not like this is a thing you have to deal with in all families. Mine is unique.” Nick had been quiet after that, but not too quiet: he’d sucked TJ’s cock till he nearly lost his mind, which was a pretty great antidote to talking any more about his fuckup past.

Sometimes, Nick would disappear for a couple days—“We’re driving someone’s stuff down to San Diego” or “We have a job that starts in San Francisco”—and that itch to start digging just a little deeper would creep back in. A hazard of growing up as he had, where every move was subjected to polls and focus groups and background checks and in-depth reportage. He’d tell himself that it wasn’t necessary, it would never be so. Nick’s back-story didn’t matter, they weren’t committed for life.

He also knew that was a lie. His story mattered a lot, because TJ was in it, deep. One night, they were sitting at the electric piano he’d bought for the bungalow, after Nick had asked TJ to teach him to play, and Nick was giving him a disastrous recital of what he’d learned so far. He was laughing too hard, he could hardly sit upright and he begged Nick to stop. When Nick did, he leaned over to kiss him. “See, this is what I love about y—” At “love,” Nick’s brows shot up; TJ could feel his face get hot and he blinked. _Shit shit shit._ He’d sworn an oath he would never put himself in that position again, never be the one who put it out there first.

All Nick did was curl his hand around TJ’s wrist, then twine his fingers with TJ’s. He kissed TJ again, long and lingering. “Me too.”

* * *

“If you _don’t_ tell him, you really might screw it up,” Cassie said. “Make it soon, because I’m going stir-crazy here. No one asks questions when you’re a white sixteen-year-old who’s not in school in Hong Kong, but back here I’m constantly getting shit about why I’m not in school, where’re my parents, blah blah blah. You get to run around with your cute piano-playing boyfriend while I’m stuck here all the time.”

“Might I remind you that this was entirely your fault? That you told me to put myself here.”

“Because the one constant in all those visions was you kissing TJ Hammond. I mean, the other constant besides his mom. If Mom said she saw you guys together a couple years ago, you can count on it working.”

“It’s just not a good idea to tell him yet. I don’t know when it will be. He’s...not what I thought he was going to be. He’ll fall off the wagon, and that’ll cost his mom the election. If she gets distracted by his problems or takes time out, that’s it. No matter what your visions or your mom’s say, she’s dead in the race. You can never underestimate how much this country hates powerful women.”

“You don’t know that. You _can’t_ know that.” Maybe her mom knew that—but they weren’t going to get a chance to ask her, not for a while yet, until she contacted them with her new whereabouts. It was just TJ Hammond and Elaine Barrish right now.

“Who is it who says the future’s always changing? If I handle this wrong and change it for the worse, no matter how small, we’re no better off than we were. Even with Kira on the inside, we can’t do this without Barrish.” Or Division would solidify its position within governments around the world, and nothing would bring them down. “Just let things grow naturally. Let it play out.”

“You have to lock this down, now. He’s already in love with you, I’ve seen it a dozen times. He won’t want to let you go.”

She couldn’t have picked a worse thing to say to him, because Nick was painfully aware of that. He was way past feeling like shit about using TJ to get to his mom. It wasn’t only the possibility of not bringing down Division that made him so reluctant to tell TJ the truth—Nick also didn’t want to lose what he had now. TJ wasn’t the only one in love here. And it really fucking sucked.

* * *

One of TJ’s favorite things to do was run around the loop at the reservoir, stop at the off-leash dog park for a few pets, head over to grab an iced latte, and then back down through the hills to the bungalow. Sometimes, if Nick stayed the night—and more often than not these days he did—they’d run together, though TJ’d had to set a few ground rules first, including that Nick buy some real running shoes instead of those ridiculous Chucks he always wore, just so TJ didn’t have to listen to him gripe about how much his shins hurt later. For someone who looked as though he must spend every waking moment at a gym, Nick could be oblivious about what was actually required to stay in shape.

It was his favorite way to start, or better yet, end a day, because it just felt like that couple-y thing again, he supposed, to go for a morning or sunset run with someone, to watch his muscles twist and flex, ogle his shapely ass when he crossed in front of you. His mom and dad were stepping up their crusade to get TJ on the circuit, but he stubbornly clung to LA. He was already working on another score as Ian’s assistant so he could learn _everything_ —from how to get an agent to how to negotiate with a studio. This was what he wanted to do for real. Almost thirty years old and he’d finally figured out what he wanted to be when he grew up. 

It hadn’t hurt that Nick turned out to be a hardcore film geek, and was returning the piano-lesson favor with all kinds of movie nerdery—checking out books at the library for TJ about film score composition, and they had begun picking stuff to watch solely based on the reputation of its music. Maybe he was jumping the gun the way he always did, but TJ was fantasizing about finding a permanent place, somewhere he could bring in a real piano and build his own studio. Maybe adopt a dog, too. Committing. 

If it had enough room so Nick could move out of his sister’s place, well, he wasn’t saying anything about that. Yet.

Shit, he was going domestic. This must be the twin thing—Dougie and Anne were expecting a kid, so the nesting disease had spread to him. And he kind of wasn’t embarrassed about it? It was what he’d always wanted, more than the partying and hookups, when he was honest. To find someone who looked at him the way Anne looked at Doug, to fit with him the way Mom and Dad had when things were good. Who understood what it was like to deal with depression and trauma and didn’t have to be placated all the time with TJ’s best good-boy performance so they would let him off the leash. It wasn’t always perfect, but the thing was: even if TJ’d had some pretty ugly moments, Nick hadn’t wavered, and TJ wanted to do the same for him. 

Sooner or later, he was going to have to figure out how the hell to bring up this relationship to his family, and he would—later. After the election. A few more months and there’d be plenty of time to worry about the details.

So, really, he should have known better.

They were on the last part of their run, coming around a sharp U-shaped bend in the road not too far from TJ’s place, when a car came flying around the turn. There were a bunch of flowering shrubs lining the fence there, the residents had a lush, overgrown garden that he’d always enjoyed running past. But the car took the turn too fast, unable to see, and veered toward them and the fence; Nick threw himself in front of TJ and his hands came out wide in front of him, as though he could block a couple tons of steel with his hands.

Which was sort of exactly what happened: there was a flash of light, and the air and light seemed to bend around the car, around them. The car skidded sideways, slowing, and then it moved away from them, as though someone had pushed it back violently. The rest of it was a blur, all TJ could do was stare at Nick, at his hands, not even noticing the car anymore. The light had come from Nick’s hands. The car moving and the weird warpy thing were all from his hands.

What the actual fuck?

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Nick asked, pawing at him, like his hands hadn’t just _emitted fucking glowy light beams_ and moved a goddamn car. He was dimly aware of the car speeding off into the hills. “TJ, answer me, are you all right?”

He shook Nick off and stepped back. “What the fu— _fuck_ was that?” His breath came in shallow gulps.

“It...you’re in shock. Come on, we gotta get you home.” His face was all twisted up, his skin flushed and eyes too bright. 

“No, just—wait—no. What the fucking hell was that?” TJ was panting, couldn’t find any fucking air. If he could just find something to breathe.

Nick seemed paralyzed, but finally he said between his gritted teeth, “Not here. I’ll explain back at your place.”

“The fuck you will.” TJ wasn’t so sure he wanted Nick there—or anywhere near him right now. 

“Back at your place,” Nick said, hard and cold.

He gave a half nod and sucked in a ragged, grasping breath, started walking up the hill on rubbery legs. Suddenly, the weird little things he’d dismissed these past months came into view: the pool game, that thing with the lamp, his drink the first night they’d met. How the lights had dimmed for no reason so many times. All of Nick’s evasions at certain types of questions.

This was exactly what TJ always did—fell head over heels for someone and found out when it was too late that they were bad news. He was an absolute ace at finding the worst people to fall in love with. 

He emptied his pockets and found his key with shaking hands, dropped everything on the table inside the door, but didn’t go further into the house. Nick could say his piece, and then he was leaving. Whatever freak show was going on here—how had he stepped into an X-Men comic book?—TJ was not getting any more mixed up in it than he already was. “Say what you have to say and then...get out.”

Nick closed his eyes. “TJ. Come on, man.” He reeked of desperation, and all TJ could wonder about, with such overpowering sadness, was what the price of this was going to be—money, or access to someone, or maybe something he couldn’t even imagine yet.

TJ just stared at Nick, wiped the sweat from his forehead. He felt clammy and nauseated and cold, and he wrapped his arms around his middle. 

“Okay. Okay.” Nick sucked in a deep, shuddery breath. “My dad wasn’t just killed in a random attack—he was murdered by people who run a group called Division. They experiment on people to...amplify certain psychic abilities in some of us. My dad could move people, things—telekinetic, is what it’s usually called. They call us movers.” Jesus Christ—he’d really suckered TJ with that job description. “He was trying to save me from them when he died, because I was born with the same ability.”

He wanted to scoff, or laugh, or just shove Nick right out the door, but he’d seen it for himself. Multiple times. “Conspiracy theories, science fiction, comic book shit,” was all he could say. Jesus, what a clusterfuck. His dad would absolutely shit bricks over this.

“Well, truth is stranger than fiction. Maybe those people knew something no one else did.” Was that some kind of fucking joke? Nick held his hands out in a helpless gesture, and TJ stared at them. They just looked like ordinary hands. God. “They’ve been searching for ways to increase our abilities. But they keep killing us instead. Back in Hong Kong I got involved in a...situation. I was pretty inept, and the low-level party tricks I’d barely been able to manage got suddenly—stronger. I kept getting better. I’m constantly learning how to control it, use it, but I still struggle. Strong emotions make it more intense, which is why when I met you, it kept going haywire.”

TJ rolled his eyes. “You know if I told anyone this, they’d commit me. So I can’t really go looking into this, can I? Can’t start digging around because my boyfriend said he has superpowers. I just have to accept that everything you’re telling me is real.”

“You wouldn’t find much about it if you did. There’s no reputable sources in a library or online. No private detective or basic security clearance will get you access to the files, they’re a shadow agency. We’re second-generation now, in some cases third. We learn about it from our parents, or from Division when they’re locking us in cages like lab rats.” He looked so tired. TJ almost felt sorry for him.

“Ah, okay.” Well, of course. The price was pretty obvious. “So you want me to get you inside somewhere, is that it? Use my parents’ clearances?”

“No. Not exactly.” TJ raised his brows, waiting, and Nick shifted, pressed his back to the door before sliding down. His T-shirt stuck to his chest and shoulders, and TJ thought dumbly of how he’d been touching him there hours ago, making him moan, believing everything was so wonderful. “As I said, I’m what they call a mover—there are all types of abilities. Watchers can see the future. Cassie’s a watcher, and the future she’s seen for her and me is wrapped up in yours.”

“Cassie, your sister?” he said peevishly. Didn’t that just put the cherry on top of the shit sundae. Covering his face with his hands, he laughed bitterly. “Cassie—Cassandra. Of course. Like the seer.” Oh, the benefits of a private school education. 

“You have no idea,” Nick said with a shaky laugh. He rubbed at his temple. “Not my sister, either. She’s...it’s a long story and it’s only going to make you more unhappy to hear it. But the last thing my dad ever said to me was that she would come into my life, and she saved it, in a way. In the future, your mom crushes Division, she brings it out into the light and they can’t survive that. Because _you_ bring it to her attention when she becomes president.”

Yeah, that made sense. What else was he good for? Nothing on his own, but he had a great family for favors. “I’ll be sure to tell her all about it.” He nodded, mouth drawing down, trying not to let himself cry.

Nick stared up at him, wringing his hands. His weird mutant hands. “The future’s always in motion. Always changing. This is the only time Cassie’s seen the same future no matter what else has happened that could change it. And it’s always because you and I are together.”

“Too bad for you, then, buddy. Maybe you ought to have her look in her crystal ball again, give it a good shake.” He motioned at the door. “I think it’s time for you to go.” Thankfully, Nick hadn’t moved any major stuff in, and TJ was pretty sure he wouldn’t miss his toothbrush.

“I know you’re pissed at me, I know you’re hurt, and I don’t blame you. I made a mistake, I should have told you right from the start. But I also know how fucking crazy all this sounds, and I figured that if you heard this at the beginning or I showed you what I could do, you’d run for the fucking hills.”

He turned his head away. “No, really, get out. Maybe you can do that—whammy thing on me and stop me, but if I have to and I can, I’m gonna call the cops. That won’t end well for you. They’ll have the FBI here so fast you won’t believe it, and then they’ll slap a Secret Service detail on me again, so even if they let you out of custody, you’re not getting anywhere near me or anyone from this family.” He left it implied that the Service would happily hand someone like Nick over to his division or whatever they were.

 _You’d think you’d be an old hand at being used, but apparently you’re still an amateur._ Nick rose slowly, making a good show of being on the verge of tears, but fuck that. TJ wasn’t going to let himself care. Nick shook his head, opening his mouth, but TJ held up a hand. “Spare me.”

When the door closed, he heard Nick’s body slump against it. Possibly if you had one secret superpower you had others, because he seemed to know TJ was standing on the other side, pressing his forehead to it, trying to keep himself together. He heard Nick say in that low, rumbly voice, “Don’t blame this on yourself, TJ. Please don’t—don’t blow your sobriety or hurt yourself. I couldn’t stand it, you’re too good a person. Not everything was a lie. Not how I feel about you.”

Through the door he could feel Nick waiting for some kind of response, but eventually he gave up because TJ heard his footsteps receding. He slid down the door and put his head in his hands.

***

“How’s the campaign going?” TJ asked, cradling the phone on his shoulder. 

“Pretty good, now that Collier’s so far behind,” Doug said. He sounded really happy, way more so than he’d been since he’d caved in to pressure from their mom and went back to heading up her staff. He’d waited too many days to talk to Doug and he was just so relieved to hear his voice. “Things look pretty clear for the convention.”

“You can’t lose that many primaries and caucuses and compete. He is such an asshole. That’s great for Mom, though.” TJ supposed that meant that if Nick’s not-sister continued to be right, it’d be smooth sailing all the way to the White House. 

He wiped the tears away that were creeping down the sides of his cheeks; he fucking hated himself for still being so broken up about this. 

“You sound kind of—not as good as you have the last time I talked to you. You’re not having any trouble, are you?” _Having trouble_ was the latest coded way of talking around TJ fucking his life up again—“Are you having trouble with the program?” “Are you having trouble in California?” “Is therapy giving you any trouble?” He added, “I thought things were going pretty well with your plans to compose full time.”

For a while he stayed silent, drumming his fingers on his thigh, until he could tell that Doug was working his way into a panic imagining all the ways TJ could be heading for disaster. But if Doug asked if TJ was still clean, he was gonna lose it. “I was seeing someone. I thought things were really good but...you know. I always fall for the shitstains.”

Doug’s breath came loud and sharp over the phone. “Oh, man, I’m sorry,” he said, and now you could hear how stressed he was. On high alert. Probably sending an emergency email to Mom and Dad as they spoke. “You were pretty serious?”

“I thought so. I was thinking about maybe even getting a new place for both of us.”

There was a heavy pause. “Jesus, that’s really—you’re okay, though? When did this happen? I could come out, you know. Catch a redeye and be there in the morning.”

“I’m still on the wagon, Christ, Dougie. I’m not gonna have a repeat of last time. Stop fussing.” He wiped at his eyes. “Anyway, Annie needs you there, so does Mom.”

“They’re fine without me for a while. You don’t have to be alone. God, TJ, you never have to be alone.” Doug sighed. “I was wondering why you didn’t want to Skype.” He sounded doubtful, about everything. All TJ could think of was Nick on the other side of the door, begging him not to blow his sobriety. How concerned Javier had been when TJ told him what had happened. Literally everyone thought TJ was a ticking bomb, just a countdown away from not staying clean. Well, he supposed he’d done it to himself—no one could believe in him because he’d shown them what a failure he was every single time it had counted.

“It’s not because I’m high. And do I sound drunk to you?” If anyone could tell he was altered, it was Doug. 

“No, but that doesn’t mean when you hang up you’re not going out to score. I’m just worried about you because I care about you, dumbass. It sounds like that’s the first relationship you’ve had since the hospital. All I want is for you to be happy and to stay healthy. I know you can do it.”

TJ breathed in and out, trying to keep a lid on it. He meant well, he really did. And for once, TJ didn’t want to disappoint anyone, didn’t want to blame his parents for this, or his past in the public eye, or anything else. He supposed this was what they called personal growth. Adulting. “I’m just gonna stay focused on working and learning as much about the field as I can. Ian has a new movie, and I’m taking meetings with some people in the next few weeks. It might just be cheesy B-movies for a while, but I gotta start somewhere. I’m not gonna fuck that up. Or Mom’s run. They’d crucify her if I did something stupid and she had to help me.”

“Aw. You sound so grown up.”

“Shut up, shithead. Anyway. How’s the baby?” and he listened to Dougie talk about ultrasounds and nursery painting and dietary changes like it was the most fascinating subject he’d ever heard, and only thought about Nick a few dozen times for the rest of the call.

* * *

“Seriously, if you don’t stop moping around here, I will hand myself over to Division and let them do whatever they want to me. I thought you were bad after you and Kira finally broke up. And take a _shower_.” Cassie squeezed her head and turned the volume on the TV up ridiculously loud. 

“Have you seen anything new?” He kept hoping maybe she’d see something significant, something that would be important enough for him to talk to TJ again and warn him. Just so Nick could say one last proper goodbye face-to-face.

“No!” she yelled. “Not since you asked me ten minutes ago.” That was an exaggeration—it had been at least an hour.

“Yeah, I love you too.” He lay down next to her on the sofa, grabbing the remote from her hand. “Find out where he’s going to be so that I can run into him. He might have a service detail on him, see what you can get about that too.”

“I’m not a damn Sniff. I can’t just see on demand. I’m not programmable.”

“You’re so sweet.” She flipped him off, but she reached for her notebook and pens.

* * *

TJ tossed the pills up and down in his palm, staring at them. The thing about living in Hollywood was that everything was incredibly easy to get, way easier than it had been even in Washington, and he could easily have walked into any party or semi-decent bar and simply asked for some coke and eight people would have jumped up to serve him. Prescription stuff had never been his thing—it was okay, the way ecstasy or poppers or weed were okay; give him coke, any day of the week. 

Vicodin he could take or leave, which somehow, right now, felt a lot safer. If he wanted to get through this fucking fundraiser, he needed a little help. As soon as Mom, Dad, and Doug had arrived in town, his mother had been all over him, praising him to the heavens for the film score and his new career objective. Doug clearly hadn’t told her about TJ having had a boyfriend and breaking up, thank god, but she still fussed at him and commented on his overall level of happiness to a suspicious degree. Trying to tease out whether he was functional enough to be seen in public, TJ supposed. 

There would be speeches in a while and all the schmoozing with the high level donors, and no way was he getting through that on his own—booze was out, since she’d smell it on him. Someday, he’d get back to drinking, but now was not the time.

Still. These little tablets in his hand looked like failure. Like big honking land yourself in the hospital failure. Like unsuccessful suicide attempt failure. Like you can’t even tell the difference between someone who loves you and someone who’s cheating on the side failure. His face in the mirror—even as unfailingly shitty as he’d felt these past weeks, he thought he did look better lately. So if he started using again, even pills or weed, it’d show on his face, at least to his family. 

But Vicodin was easy enough. TJ picked one up and turned the water on, cupping his hand under the faucet, when the men’s room door opened. He’d chosen this one because it was farther away from the ballrooms, just so he wouldn’t have to worry about someone following him in. 

Nick stood there, looking infuriatingly amazing in a teal suit and green tie. Talk about cleaning up well. 

“You gotta be kidding me,” TJ said, stuffing the pills in his pocket. “You picked _this_ place to show up, when it’s crawling with Secret Service. How the fuck did you get in here?” No way did someone with Nick’s background, despite how clean-shaven and spiffed up he was, get screened through—even some of the major media weren’t allowed inside, they had to wait out in the cold with the paps and the third-stringers.

At least he had the decency to look sheepish. “Press credentials. I know someone who can—you know what, never mind. Doesn’t matter.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” He made for the door but Nick stepped into his path.

“I know you don’t want to see me, and I get that—and you feel like I used you to get to your mom, which I did, so I don’t blame you for hating me. But you won’t take my calls, and I don’t know any way to get you to hear me out. I’ll say what I have to and then I’ll leave you alone for good, if that’s what you want. I swear.”

TJ scowled at him. Had he seen the pills in his hand, assumed they were something more than aspirin? Or maybe Nick’s fortune-teller friend told him about it and they got all worried TJ was going to fuck their plot up. “If I don’t, are you just gonna end up standing under my window, holding up a boombox that’s playing ‘In Your Eyes’?”

That irritatingly cute crooked grin spread over his lips. Fuck, he was gorgeous. “Now that you put the idea in my head, maybe. Do you think it’d work?” He moved closer to TJ, still not right in his space but close enough he could smell him, and it made his throat a little tight. All the nights he’d spent with that scent, his heat and his skin... “There are people who can do that, you know. Push ideas into someone’s head, make them do things. It’s one of the reasons it’s been so hard to stay ahead of them, or fight back.”

TJ rolled his eyes. “I don’t need to hear any more about your secret mutant society.”

“I know. It’s not your fight, and I should never have tried to make it. I had it in my head that I might meet you, and just talk. That you were someone who might listen to a friend...or a friend with benefits. Then I started being afraid that if I told you everything, you might use again and that could derail your mom’s campaign, so I took the coward’s way out. I always took the coward’s way out, my whole life, until I met Cassie, and now I’m in this fight for good.”

How romantic. “Oh, okay, so let me guess: this is the part where you say you didn’t expect to fall in love.”

“I thought I already did.” He looked off to the side, swallowing. “That was—” Someone opened the restroom door and without even turning all the way to see who it was, Nick flung his hand to the side and the door flew shut, hard.

TJ blinked. “That is fucking insane.”

“It takes some getting used to, I know.” 

“If that’s the FBI or Secret Service, you’re history.”

“We’ll find out, I guess.” He rubbed his hand on his chin, looking hard at TJ. “But yeah, you’re right. I wasn’t expecting to end up feeling the way I did. And bottom line, under all this other shit, is that I didn’t want to lose you. So.”

He felt the pills burning in his pocket and pulled them out, thrusting them toward Nick. “Did you see what I had in my hand?” Nick shook his head. “It’s just Vicodin, but I wasn’t doing tonight without a little help, feeling the way I have been.” TJ didn’t want to admit he’d been avoiding therapy, too, because he had no idea how to tell her about why he and Nick had split.

Nick’s face was tight, regretful, and he was breathing hard. “You were the one who told me you couldn’t tie your sobriety to someone else. Tie your plans for your life to a guy again, let it have power over you.”

“Which is why I haven’t taken them yet. I keep hearing everyone’s voices, seeing their disappointed damn faces, and...these past seven months, the work I’ve done...I don’t know. It all just goes _poof_.” 

“You’re better than that.” Nick was so freaking earnest, that was the thing that always killed TJ. He’d spent his life orbiting around liars and gladhanders and con men, and Nick was the opposite of all that, despite his history.

For the first time in a long time, TJ felt like he was understood. Not in some sweeping romantic way, but just...someone had been there for him while he was making these changes in his life, someone had been _with_ him who saw through to the real Thomas Hammond. And he wasn’t sure what to do with that, with all these thousands of futures hanging on the decisions he made. A cascade of damage that could start from one tiny mistake.

Nick said, “All I’m asking is a chance to tell you everything. I want to tell you all of it. And then you get to decide. Not your mom, not your brother, and definitely not your dad. You get to decide how this future goes.”

“No pressure or anything.”

He couldn’t help himself, Nick was giving him that goofy lopsided smile and those fucking puppydog blue eyes, and TJ ended up smiling back. This was probably a terrible idea, worse than it had been getting involved with him in the first place. But he wasn’t ready to let go of Nick just yet, not now. 

“I have to shake some hands, introduce my mom, she likes an escort,” he said, throwing the pills down the drain and running the water for a minute. “Then we can blow this place, maybe go walk on the beach or something. Somewhere neutral.” 

So yeah, maybe it wasn’t the brightest thing he’d ever done, but TJ leaned in and kissed Nick, sweet and melancholy, the weight of his past and Nick’s future heavy between them. When he drew back, Nick was still smiling, though, like someone who knew just what the future had in store.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for the Spandau Ballet earworm.
> 
> A thousand thanks to minim calibre for sparking the concept, listening to me whine, and character discussions.
> 
>  
> 
> [On Tumblr.](http://teatotally.tumblr.com/post/181697087735/my-yuletide-fics)


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